


With Love

by plasticpumpkins



Category: Chronicle (2012)
Genre: First Person Perspective, Letters, M/M, Matt and Andrew left the city together, Mentions of alcohol, Personal character monologue, Steve did die which sucks, The destruction at the end of the movie never came, They work together and stuff - they're pretty okay, This is technically an AU, mentions of weed, pda warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 17:34:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7766989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plasticpumpkins/pseuds/plasticpumpkins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a letter from Andrew Detmer to Steve Montgomery. (Or, it's an AU where after Steve dies, Andrew lets Matt in and they continue on together - rather than alone. Everything still hurts, but it's okay.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ObsoleteAdjectives](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsoleteAdjectives/gifts).



> I always go on this emotional tangents without any forethought but I'm posting this anyways because my friend, Nits, is a blessing and suggested that I should publish it anyways.

Dear Steve, 

I can’t help but remember.

We wanted to be the sky, but quickly learned that gravity held us down. We were plastered to the floor of your grassy backyard, ignoring homework and the pain in our chests. You told me that your parents fought in the middle of the night and disrupted the underwhelming clock of sleep you went under. You told me you drank your father’s whiskey because it’s the only thing that made you feel. That was the night we snuck into your parent’s liquor cabinet and chugged everything that we could open. 

I kissed you for the first time in a swimming pool. We were down to our boxers, drowning in the deep end. Your lips were slippery, but I held onto you anyways. I kissed you until we both slipped beneath the wavering surface of the water, content with the thought of dying somewhere outside of the shallow end; we were teenagers on the verge of adulthood, so we held our breaths and waited. 

Matt found us intertwined on a lawn chair and laughed until he was in tears. You shoved him into the pool and we jumped in behind him because we were merely kids then. You had the brownest eyes I had ever seen and your gaze was more high-inducing than the alcohol we drank or the weed in Matt’s car. We were teenagers. We had a light within us that couldn’t be smothered by death. 

I could manipulate the world around me with the powers that rose like vengeance in my being but nothing made me more invincible than walking home with your jacket clinging to my body. I was colored green and white after years of being blue, so I swallowed invincibility and allowed your scent to erase my own. I wanted to spend forever within your presence, but this was close enough. 

You were a thing of beauty, Steve Montgomery. You had a warm heart and a mind smarter than most. You were inquisitive and endlessly curious. I fell in love with the sound of your voice and the way you figured things out and how you held my hand. You could have been anything else, you could have been hateful, but the popularity never went to your head because you didn’t have a bad bone in your body. You were handsome and calm and… there. You were there. 

It’s been two years since they buried you and your memories are the clearest in my mind. Matt and I make money now by performing at birthday parties, which takes up the majority of my time these days. We left Seattle, I couldn’t bare to live anywhere that harbored the memory of you but in some way, that’s incorrect. You live in my head, on my computer screen. Matt says I’m afraid of letting you go. 

He’s right. 

I fear death. When my mother became sick, I began counting the days. I couldn’t look at her without feeling like the world was falling to pieces. That’s the thing, Steve, when you love someone everything is dangerous, everything is a threat. It wasn’t the world falling apart, it was her. I chose to believe the opposite because it made it easier to sleep, but it didn’t save her. It didn’t save you. 

There are times when I pretend you’re not dead. I’ll sit behind closed doors, believing ignorantly that you’re just on the other side. You’re just a knock away. It makes the pain lessen. 

Matt says it’s a false sense of security, but it keeps me from panicking. I’ve convinced myself that it’s my choice to keep the door locked. It’s all to remain in control. Deep down, I know that you’re gone. I know that your voice isn’t a phone call away, but I’ll hold onto your number anyways. I spoke to your family once before Matt and I left the city, I tried not to notice the similarities between you and your father. When he smiled, it was like you were there - if only for a second. It was enough. 

Your parents gave me your jacket. They told me it would collect dust if I didn’t take it. Your mother sobbed inconsolably when I shrugged it on and it fit loosely. It was like the confirmation that her son didn’t take up space anymore, that I was there to fill it. She hugged me so tightly that I couldn’t breathe, I felt in that moment that she missed you almost as much as I did. 

She told me that I could always come back to see them, I believed her. Matt and I left your childhood home that day, but you came with us, with me. We drove out of the city, telling ourselves that we didn’t need to fly to get away. We saved our powers for another day - we embraced normality for the sake of comfort. I thought of your mother for two days. I missed my own for three. 

Matt and I never left each other’s side. We did everything in honor of you. We drank whiskey we couldn’t afford and fell asleep in hotel rooms that we didn’t belong in. I tried not to cry when reality reminded me of your barrelling existence - I found you in parked cars, in the dark, in fast food restaurants. Matt didn’t say anything when I wore your jacket daily. It was all I had of you. 

This isn’t me telling you goodbye, Steve. I’ll never be able to let you go. A part of me will always long for you and your compelling love. But this is me telling you that I’ll see you later. This is me asking how you are. This is me remembering us outside of your grave. This is me holding onto you tighter than I ever have before. I’ve always been afraid of death, but if you’re on the other side, it can’t be too bad. 

With love, 

Andrew Detmer.


End file.
